Written by Elijah P. PRAY is one of those Manila rap outliers who know how to play the game from the very beginning. On his debut project ‘THANKGOD4ALLDIS$WAG,’ he walks in already dressed for the role: “gangway” street styling, flex-first instincts, and a slightly pitched-up delivery that turns his nasal cadence into its own signature. The tape runs under 20 minutes and barely lets any track breathe past the two-minute mark, which is part of the point. This isn’t a rap “album” in the old sense. It moves like an Instagram timeline refresh: fast, glossy, and prepped for replay. For all its iced-out production luster, PRAY’s strength isn’t merely identifiable trap aesthetics. He understands how to sit inside production and steer it. His ear works like a DJ’s. The beats across “MONEY COUNTER,” “RA$TA,” “F*CK AGAIN,” and “$YRUP TSAKA DOPE” hit that sweet spot where rage energy and cloud-rap drift start bleeding into each other; Trap hi-hats flare up, melodies blur into neon haze, then PRAY slides through with a calm, almost smug control. He raps like he’s narrating a lifestyle he’s already living, pitching into his dreams he hopes to buy into. He even plays a Kodak Black sample of “counting money” as one of the “freakiest things” he’s ever done. Lyrically, he plays the expected cards: money, lust, lean syrup-soaked bravado. Still, the project doesn’t collapse under cliché, because PRAY knows how to sell a line. His hooks land, his timing stays sharp, and his vocal tone has enough character to keep the tape from feeling like another copy-paste flex mission.With all its charismatic end result, THANKGOD4ALLDIS$WAG won’t convert the experimental rap purists, and PRAY isn’t aiming for that crowd anyway. This is music for the city’s wired-up nights, for kids who treat Instagram as a moodboard and ground zero for the come-up. PRAY enters 2026 with real potential, and this debut proves he can get ahead of the game. Support the art and the artist:
Author: Louis Pelingen
ALBUM REVIEW: Darla Biana – Iridescent
Written by Noelle Alarcon House music is always a danceable delight; an air of familiarity is constantly present in the candy-colored soundscapes. It just invites your body to move and let the bouncing vibrations thud through your veins and lead you to the dance floor. A rapid attack on all your senses at once, the genre is a vessel for enthusiasm, accented by the occasional syncopated beats and punchy synths. Darla Biana’s debut passion project, ‘Iridescent,’ flickers between the realm of house and the adjacent classifications its wide panorama encompasses; described as the artist’s challenge to herself, created in just three months, it’s an ambitious, headfirst dive into the creativity a deck and a few beats can afford. There’s a template to the genre Biana pursues throughout the album, which makes her vision easy to audibly sketch out–like the minutiae pleasures of driving across cubed, 3D streets in video games from the early aughts or even the trance-inducing techno horns that are emitted from the complex insides of holographic CDs. ‘Iridescent’ is frank and straight to the point, with Biana’s invitations for romance coated in the relaxed lilt of her voice. The record doesn’t need a million ways, nor words, to express self-confidence and infatuation; Biana merely uses the music to punctuate what she means and to begin her sentences. In “Love You Down,” she says it like she means it–she will love you down. Plain and simple. The relaxed harmonies that follow the utterance of her promise and the four-on-the-floor beats are enough signs of the commitment she offers to the table. In accordance with commitment, it’s praiseworthy to note this album’s commitment to pushing Biana’s incredibly specific vibe. There are two interludes in its 33-minute runtime: “Make You Mine,” an appetizing opening that kicks off the album with hypnotizing vocals and pulsing D&B percussion, and “One Day,” a similar, 58-second break that signifies the transition of the album’s subject matter from falling in love to being in love with yourself. For a debut project, ‘Iridescent’ is like a designer’s first sketch that’s come to life–a piece that knows which elements to take from the avant-garde, and what its limitations can bring to life instead of restricting. However, there are instances when the production overpowers Biana’s vocal color, leaving her vocals floating, wandering across the track instead of becoming one with the music. There’s an admirable devotion to staying musically cohesive, yet it could have touched on the adjacent possibilities of exploring dance aside from sticking to similar beats. You can never go wrong with the glitzy, bouncy glamour of house–it just so happens that as versatile as the genre is, it’s also one that needs to embrace its malleability and constantly be kept up with. Darla Biana shows in her debut that she can–she just needs that extra boost, that liveliness brought upon by variety to continue. ‘Iridescent’ is house, definitely–but it’s a “house” that’s a little more lived in, a bunch of tracks to dance in your bedroom to. Support the art and the artist:
EP REVIEW: Cream Flower – Orbital Wound
Written by Faye Allego There’s a certain adrenaline rush that emanates from the psyche whenever one is en route; it’s a rush that can capture anxiety, urgency, or even the sense of ‘gigil.’ Cream Flower’s ‘Orbital Wound’ EP is exactly what should be queued during moments of movement, whether it’s commuting, traveling, or simply walking down a footbridge. On their third EP release, Celina Viray and Jam Lasin step into a wider sonic terrain, loosening their grip on shoegaze familiarity to explore something louder, stranger, and more expansive. They blend riot grrrl rage with explosive urban paranoia, crafting songs that feel perpetually in motion and perfectly suited for city wandering. Even amid the chaos and noise, the duo injects an unexpected motif: if a stray cat crosses your path, this EP insists you bring it to the vet. The first three tracks form ‘Orbital Wound’’s most immediate stretch, buoyed by an upbeat momentum and Viray’s vocal effects that sound like it’s being broadcast through an airport PA system. “Cat Distribution System” and “Fever Dream” have a distant, metallic, and half-instructional tinge to them. The choice of turning the voice into the form of a public announcement rather than a private confession shows a sense of urgency that isn’t found in the typical dreampop soliloquy. The sense of radio transmission becomes even sharper on the second track, “Dahas,” where radio static and intergalactic textures are lured in, giving the impression that the band is trying to communicate across impossible distances. The song is displayed like a broadcast meant for extraterrestrials, only to reveal itself as a message addressed directly to us as the listener. The lyrics cut through the noise to confront the realities, inconsistencies, and outright outlandish absurdities of the Philippine zeitgeist under the government’s rule. It initially sounds alien, but the repetitions gradually sound something more familiar: uncomfortable truths hidden within signal distortion. Chillingly, the EP turns subtle and dreamy with its fourth track, “Orbs.” There, Viray and Lasin introduce acoustics that were absent from the beginning tracks, and lyrically, they tap into more introspective lyrics. In “Orbs”, Viray warps time and perspective as she describes being “engulfed in a fever dream.” The lyrics suggest a fractured sense of self, as if the speaker is watching their own thoughts from a distance and turning into never-before-seen shapes and geometric patterns. What’s interesting is that the last track of the album, “A Violent Cry”, beheads all forms of stillness from the previous track, and the listener is put right back in that state of adrenaline that was introduced in “Cat Distribution System”. It’s loud in every sense of the word, but not flashy or indulgent, where it becomes an earache. By the time the EP moves beyond its opening run, it’s clear that ‘Orbital Wound’ is both an experiment in sounds and a tool in communication through noise, humor, and paranoia. The urge of wanting to hear more after the last track is ever-present, but in the meantime, aggressively slamming the repeat button will suffice. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: orteus – Deersong
Written by Louis Pelingen After their mixtape last year, orteus isn’t yet done crafting more music. “Deersong” lands on the very first day of January 2026, serving as the lead single for their upcoming debut album, which is charged with delightful experimentation. The drums gallop rhythmically over sweet vocals, soothing soundscapes, and rumbling bass notes that create a whirring experience, yet keep the overall melodies clear enough to be heard, gratifyingly landing the explosive bombast that comes up at the end of the song. The overwhelming nature still persists within its structure, taking more time to simmer before it finally clicks. But through the refinement in mixing balance and expanded curiosity in sound textures, ‘Deersong’ lays down a path that is worth following down the line. Potentially having more surprises that end up with us becoming like deer in the headlights. Support the art and the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: maki! – popout
Written by Elijah P. “Lahat sabog/ fuck it, we get lit,” maki! declares on “popout,” a year-opener single that wastes zero time pretending it’s anything deeper than adrenaline and appetite. But that’s the trick: what sounds like disposable turn-up rap is also a tight little mission statement. maki! opens the track greeting the listener like he’s clocking into a shift, then asks for love with the kind of hunger that most rappers like him wouldn’t barely achieve. maki! does it effortlessly. “popout” runs under two minutes, and it moves at the speed of an online reel. The beat leans into bitcrushed, 8-bit textures, turning trap into something glitchy and pixelated. maki! slides across it with melodic autotune warps and chopped-up vocal flickers, tossing newly heated ad-libs. The parking-lot setting in the song’s music video feels right: fluorescent, chaotic, nocturnal, and ready for trouble. What separates him from the usual mumble haze is that he actually commits to a slightly tilted rise of momentum. He gets from point A to point B cleanly, no dead air, no lazy hook crutch, no filler bars pretending to be vibes. With the internet pushing this slayr/CHE-adjacent strain of pixel-trap forward, maki! sounds tapped into the mutation early, proving local rap gets to catch up, sharpening their skillset into something truly their own. Support the art and the artist:
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Asunojokei (Japan)
Within the populated stretches of Tokyo, Japan, lies the flood of acts and bands that start by crafting music, pursuing their own identity that continues to grow year by year. Coming from such a place is a band named Asunojokei, a four-piece blackgaze band that was formed back in 2014. Takuya Seki (bassist), Kei Toriki (guitarist), and Seiya Saito (drummer) were close friends since their teenage years, only meeting up with their vocalist, Daiki Nuno, through social media after watching a video of him covering a Converge song. Since then, they stuck together, starting their musical journey that will continue to break their limits. While they started with a two-track demo release back in 2015, it is through their first EP in 2016, ‘A Bird in the Fault,’ that informs the start of what soundscape, melodic tone, and writing style they’ll keep building up into. Howling screams; pummeling streaks of blackgaze, post-hardcore, and other metal stripes; and numbed melancholic poetry are immediately attached to this band’s palette. Songs like “Silent Tears” go through their post-metal motions with these solemn guitars, just before Nuno starts shrieking and the wail of blast beats and stormy riffs that come afterward. And “Easy” tips the line within depressive black metal, most notably with the gloomy first few minutes, cultivating this downbeat atmosphere that continues getting more cavernous and stinging. Two years later, their 2018 debut album, ‘Awakening’, amplifies what the band showcased beforehand and expands upon melodic prowess that caters to more potent songcrafting, with writing that consists of pushing past dour emotions despite feeling hopeless and lonely within a momentous city. Leaner cuts like “Double Quotation Mark” and “Ugly Mask” indulge within thunderous black metal passages on the former and shimmering rock tones on the latter, carving out Nuno’s ability towards spoken word, singing, and screaming. “Bashfulness of the Moon” and “Thin Ice” maximize their post-rock structures to a different level, where lilting cooldowns lead to explosive blackgaze turmaturges, with Nuno sounding guttural and snappy in his wails. After releasing a couple of EPs throughout 2019 and 2020, they eventually took a bit more time before putting together ‘Island’, their sophomore record, which took a different direction in the way they compose their tunes. Said direction comes in the manner of implementing J-rock progressions to their post-hardcore and blackgaze roots, a blend of sound that this band manages to synergize in a big way. “Chimera” and “Diva Under The Blue Sky” simultaneously sound harrowing and magnetic all at once, bleary riffs and crushing screams become a bit brighter amid the accompanying J-rock melodies. There is happiness and company that’s worth looking forward to: A sign of forward momentum that is essential to the album’s songwriting, gently realizing that, despite the internal gloom that the protagonist is overwhelmed by. That is not to say the straightforward blackgaze tones are left behind, as cuts like “The Forgotten Ones” and “The Sweet Smile of Vortex” sound more ferocious with the band’s refinement across production and songcrafting. Nuno’s howls and spoken word are crushing and emotive as ever, clawing across frigid blast beats and melodic crescendos that kept building up into a punchy resolution. A characteristic that carries the momentum of this album from front to back, allowing compositions to sound heftier and stickier than ever. The seeds that came from that specific direction paved the path to their recent record this year, ‘Think of You’. Even moving further into that J-rock and J-Pop influences and leaning more into concise melodic structures, formulating a shorter, winter-themed album where the production and composition refinements are on full display. Said influences overall strengthen their signature blackgaze and post-hardcore bread-and-butter, crystallizing phenomenal melodic earworms that this band lands with gusto. “Magic Hour,” “Angel,” and “Stella” are invigorating as it is showstopping, with Nuno pulling out all the power into screams and the rest of the band pulling off dazzling melodic throughlines. “Dogma” still shows that, despite going in this direction, the band doesn’t forget their roots, with that blackgaze wall of sound combusts through its roaring riffs. So does the rampant rhythms of “In The City Where Cobalt Falls” with the soaring guitar passages and blast beats piercing through the skies. This level of vigor proceeds to how frosty and brighter the album sounds, a tone that complements the yearning, thoughtful sensibilities that are plastered on its songwriting. Always finding hope and confidence, an uplifting energy that echoes through “The Farewell Frost” and “Tomorrow is Your Day”. Utilizing gleaming atmospherics, cavernous vocals, and fiery compositions to drive that tender optimism higher. With each passing record, Asunojokei keeps flapping their wings and gradually crafting their own unique identity amidst Japan’s historic background towards its circulation of black metal and post-hardcore bands. Never leaving behind what they used to be in the past, just taking new steps to find a space that is their own. With an optimistic thoughtfulness being embraced that keeps shining brighter, the way that they’re going is up, flooding the skies with howls that put everyone awake.
SOUNDS OF THE SEA: Mary Sue (Singapore)
The hip-hop scene in Singapore only continues to grow with every passing moment. Groups such as Construction Sight, Triple Noize, and Urban Xchange marked their impact in the 90s and the 2000s, yet it took quite some time before the culture flourished throughout the country. In the 2010s, more artists such as Akeem Jahat, Yung Raja, THELIONCITYBOY, ShiGGA Shay, and Masia One eventually made their name in the mainstream, carrying and shaping what is there to be shown in Singapore’s Hip-Hop space. Once the 2020s hit the surface, there came an artist who struck an abstract niche within the underground. Due to the isolation brought back in the pandemic, Siew Png Sim – with his love for acts like MIKE, Earl Sweatshirt, MF DOOM, and Navy Blue – dons the Mary Sue moniker and starts to illustrate his sound. Rougher beats, decisive flows, and pensive storytelling are the name of the game. He slowly shaped those foundations through EPs across 2020 to 2021. Those EPs are just a preparation for what he will be putting out since then. In 2022, he dropped his debut record, ‘KISSES OF LIFE’. Here, Mary Sue, alongside the insane row of producers and features across the world, establishes his creative tendencies in full as he lets loose personal experiences of grief and recovery, wading through the loss of his grandfather and the struggle with his grandmother’s dementia. It’s a reflection with memories that pulls him back and pushes him forward, swirling around production that’s simultaneously light and dark. “Moving On!” and “Spirits/Name” stretch out samples to a distressingly glitchy degree, whilst “Cavalry” and “Paper Generals” stall in muted but lighter beats. A juxtaposition that Mary Sue’s weathered delivery passes through without any trouble at all, like a conflicted spirit going through shades of grey. The following year sees him expound on his creative streak, with three albums that were released within a few months of each other. ‘For Sure’ replaces abstract collages with tangible instruments, a backdrop that soothes the ragged introspection he evokes in his bars. ‘OK!’ follows suit, a collaborative effort with other South East Asian beatmakers and musicians (Cravism, ABANGSAPAU, etc) to construct a breezier record, adorned with boom bap and pop rap to set the vibe. In contrast, Mary Sue’s collaboration with UK producer Psychedelic Ensemble flips into experimental territory on ‘CACOPHONOUS DIGRESSIONS, A RECORD OF MOMENT IN TIME,’ where the beats blare and crackle in every space, yet never smother Mary Sue’s presence on the microphone. His constant work ethic is showcased even further through the “Voice Memos” releases that he pushes out, where even in the midst of traveling to a foreign place, his knack for writing never stops. Recording 2022’s ‘VOICE MEMOS ACROSS A COUPLE BODIES OF WATER’ when he was in New York City for two weeks, and 2024’s ‘Voice Memos From A Winter In China’ when he was on a winter tour in China with Singaporean jazz quintet, Clementi Sound Appreciation Club. His wandering thoughts during those times are now encapsulated within these projects, containing a well of memories that he’ll cherish long-term. 2025 is an important year that shows Mary Sue’s growth as an overall artist. With the help of the Clementi Sound Appreciation Club, these two forces managed to craft a unique spirit that shines within Mary Sue’s overall discography, ‘Porcelain Shield, Paper Sword’. In comparison with most of his works thus far, he wields a keen disposition behind live instrumentation, a distinction that propels Mary Sue’s performances and lyric-making to the next level. Diverting away from his influences and embracing a style that he can call his own. The album’s major perspective on a time-traveling oracle observing the ambiguous and chaotic histories of the world is greatly reflected in the writing and sound that informs this character concept. Mary Sue’s observant insight and assured delivery resonate with the Clementi Sound Appreciation Club’s burnished melodic contributions. Gentle acoustics nimble across spare horns and keys of ‘Thief and the Bell’, creating serenity curtaining the ignorant thief who stole from the village. Rumbling guitars and drums are emphasized on ‘Haste’ and ‘Minesweeper’, creating stabs of heaviness that unveil the violence unspooling past centuries. ‘Horse Acupuncture’ is swallowed up with haunting gongs around burly guitar passages, fitting Mary Sue, Agung Mango, and Nakama.’s observations of people who are shunned by those who get to control the perception of others. With the release of this record, it only shows Mary Sue on an upward stream; his craft within Singapore’s underground hip-hop only gets more acknowledgement and refinement. His grounded experiences only give him more to speak about, a hopeful presence that shines amidst the swarm of darkness that surrounds him. With his newfound sword and shield equipped, his thoughtful wisdom leads to wider ground being shown, then gradually explored with a taut mindset.
ALBUM REVIEW: sci fye – 2092
Written by Lex Celera Who can tell the future? Sometimes there’s no point in finding conjectures to predict what can happen five, ten, or a hundred years from now. Sometimes all you need to do is imagine. One year after who knows?, Pasay-based rock band sci fye continues its formula of punk-ish, catchy rock mixed in with a lot of other elements. Since its inception, sci fye’s main proposition has been an interpretation of a subset of music acts that ended up bundled together in the ‘90s: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Green Day, Pink Floyd – you get the idea – all influential and worth remembering when listening to sci fye. It’s almost like they swiped off the dust from a CRT television set and examined it through a microscope. These influences flow off of each other in a way that outpaces their novelty while binding them to a sound sci fye can call its own. For one, it’s the technical know-how: the recording is precise, and more importantly, audibly clear, as we have come to expect from their work. Let me be clear: a bulk of sci fye’s tracks are at its most potent when heard live (always a pleasure to see them in the marquee of a gig poster) , but easy listening – say, while in a car – doesn’t diminish sci fye’s angular approaches to music. “Bastard,” a lyrical and thematic standout from the whole project, was worth an immediate re-listen after first contact, its concussiveness, borrowed from its more hip-hop elements, bouncing off the windows of the car stereo. Second, the composition of each song leaves little to be desired, and I say this in the best way possible. ‘2092’ as its individual tracks feel complete, or at least well considered, for it to go on, break down, or stop. What has been said about their previous EP could also be said of ‘2092’: while their individual tracks feel fully formed, the Album as a whole is a mixed bag, rife with textures and sounds that point towards different directions. The 4-piece has yet to transcend from its past work, but maybe transcendence is not the point. “Intro,” Good morning, ‘2092’!,” and “Western Corprorate Standoff” act as interludes between tracks but come in more as flavor text that can be excavated to find meaning, or not. It’s like laughing at the mouth of the abyss. After their EP launch on Halloween, the band thanked their collaborators and friends in an Instagram post. “We still got one more in us,” the band says. Maybe we can expect another project a year from now. At the speed they are going, music making appears to be a pressure valve they turn clockwise every now and then to let out some steam. Steam, and a lot of angst, some anger, a little bit of melancholy. A lot of anxiety. I’m not sure if I enjoy being comforted by the fact that I relate to the anxieties of the generation, as told by sci fye, to a tee: feelings of belonging (“Alien”), fraught relationships (“Drown It Out”), but mostly the dread of living in the Philippines in 2025. The title track, “’2092′,” and its frenetic fuzziness exude warmth, but the lyrics come as a lingering shadow. We all want to escape this hellhole we call the present day. What’s 2092 minus 2025? 67. Do with that information what you will. If you’re willing to rock with the supposed abject aimlessness sci fye presents themselves, it would be more interesting to see them as a prism of the present condition we see ourselves in, and ‘2092’ as yet another layer to their humor. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
ALBUM REVIEW: aunt robert – Goodbyes Forever
Written by Rory Marshall The mind can get so jumbled up that even our own thoughts can be unintelligible to us. What we’re left with is a confusing cacophony of emotion and dissonant ideas, but somehow, aunt robert was able to take theirs and masterfully craft it into music in their new indietronica / indie pop hybrid album ‘Goodbyes Forever.’ We’ve seen EPs and singles from them over the years, but this is their first full-length album. ‘Goodbyes Forever’ takes a brave leap into vulnerability, budging open doors to the mind usually kept shut in order to cope with overwhelming feelings. Spanning across 10 tracks, each song delves deep into specific yet relatable emotions. From isolation and pining, to girlhood and resentment towards a past lover, each song dedicates itself to these specific feelings. It comes across that the album is a hodgepodge of different sentiments, but how better would it be to describe the chaos that the mind can be sometimes? The theme of mishmashed emotions is also mirrored through the selection of musical genres present in the album. aunt robert has taken this as an opportunity to diversify their sound, branching out to different genres to better illustrate their songs’ message while still holding on to the indie-rock style that fans fell in love with in the first place. This can be seen as early as the first track of the project, “Frount Robert” an upbeat, poptechno-esque track tinged with longing. It’s their classic aunt robert sound accompanied by synths and vocal effects. The album progresses smoothly, with the next couple of tracks leaning towards indie-rock, including the tracks “Mad” and “Please Say It” which were released as singles last year and have now found a home in the album. It’s such a cohesive arrangement of songs that when the album takes a stylistic turn in “Keepsake”, you realize you’re already at the midpoint of the album. With “Keepsake”, the band slows down the pace of the album and takes on a more intimate, reminiscent approach. Utilising an acoustic and atmospheric sound, aunt robert looks back on a past relationship with its promises unkept and answers to questions left unsaid, all the while still wishing them the best. It’s a beautiful, succinct track that deserves to be highlighted. The second half of the album showcases the experimentation that aunt robert endeavored, with most of the tracks leaning heavily towards that poptechno tinge we’ve seen in the opening track. The drum machines and synths create such a vibrant atmosphere. The production on these tracks proves to be excellent – they have a lot of elements mashed up with each other without sounding busy. It’s discordant in the most lovely way. As seen in tracks like “Blue” and “I’ll Go Wherever You Wanna Go”. As the album comes to a close, it ends with a hopeful note in “Hoarse (I’ll Get up Like I Always Do)”. The song devolves into high gain crunch towards the end with aunt robert’s voice ringing throughout the breakdown singing the lyrics like “I’ll get up like I always do” and “And I care like I always do. Nothing bad but it’s nothing new” It’s reminiscent of the consoling we sometimes do to ourselves in times of distress, reminding ourselves that we are capable of getting back up no matter what tries to convince us otherwise. ‘Goodbyes Forever’ is an apt name for the album. The whole project was a way to say the unsaid to whoever needed to hear it, so all that’s left is to bid farewell. Its closure and catharsis spread across 10 songs. aunt robert has done these genres before in smaller projects, but in ‘Goodbyes Forever,’ it seems they really dug their nails into it and honed their unique sound, making us excited to see how they develop their arsenal of styles in the future. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: goodbyes forever by aunt robert
ALBUM REVIEW: Janine Berdin – LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA
Written by Faye Allego Janine Berdin’s ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ is hopeful and seemingly glaring. She blends pop punk, pain, and the performance of “Alternative” in a way that centers the strong female lead vocal back into revival with her new debut album. Within the sonic punches she throws, Berdin’s voice also sits somewhere between early 2000s OPM angst and modern TikTok confessional pop. If there was a word to coin mainstream artists diving down the alternative route as their breakfree moment and entrance to their own creative autonomy, it’s ‘Hugot Alternative’. ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ opens like a Pandora’s box of every detailed situationship debacle that has been discussed, debated, and dissected in sleepovers and passive-aggressive Instagram stories. “HAYUP KA” and “SITWASYONSHIP” hit with unapologetic energy that evokes the comfort that comes from the rawness of rage. Tracks like “Miskom” soften the edges as Berdin’s vocals glide gently over percussion that recalls praise and worship patterns, before a tempo change in the bridge jolts you back into the time where women in OPM like Yeng Constantino confronted and made heartbreak sound holy. There’s no cattiness in “Pretty Pretty Bird,” it’s Berdin’s “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo. It’s where girls sit in front of the mirror and fight with their reflection. It’s where Berdin sings “You love her but make love to me/She’s a pretty pretty girl and really I’m no one” that the confession of, “Well, I wanted it to be me” is effortlessly relatable. Meanwhile, “ANTOXIC” captures Berdin at peak raspiness and rawness, and becomes reminiscent of a tragic TikTok edit of the Twilight Saga Series. This track channels the emotional punch of Hugot Alternative, bringing back the early OPM sincerity but reimagined through a grittier, modern lens. The third track, “Ayos Lang,” offers another emotional highlight that cements her vocal prowess and vulnerability. The track stands out among others because of how Berdin turns blunt with potential lovers being oh-so clueless, seen in lyrics like “Tamang patama lang sa story ko/ Palibhasa, ikaw palagi unang viewer ko,” a common detriment in the age of courtship dying down. While ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ starts off strong in the former half of the tracklisting, the momentum dips in its latter half. The slower tracks are simply misplaced, as the pacing and thematic flow couldn’t balance out the emotional weight and adrenaline carried out in the first few tracks. And then there’s the question of authenticity. When you already have access to a full production setup, a massive following, and creative freedom as a young woman in music, how do you escape the polished mold built for female pop stars? Berdin toes that line. She’s edgy enough to reject bubblegum pop, but not quite immersed in the alternative subculture she seems to gesture toward. Is she playing it safe? Maybe. Perhaps, she doesn’t have to carry the burden of reinventing what “alt OPM” means. If there’s one thing that doesn’t land, it’s that there is this unnecessary depiction of what the alternative is. The music videos, particularly the one where Rufa Mae Quinto appears as what seems like a Morticia Addams cosplay while playing fake bass, feel nothing but disconnected from the album’s emotional core. The aesthetic choices made don’t match the soundscape’s sincerity, leaving the visual narrative oddly hollow, almost forgettable, like a 15-second TikTok. Despite its inconsistencies, ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ is a thrilling start especially as a debut album from Janine Berdin. It’s snippets from an artist still defining her space in the post-idol landscape. Berdin may still be finding her balance between authenticity and aesthetic, but if this debut proves anything, it’s that she rocks the distinct OPM blend of yearning and grit that was dearly missed in the new age of strong female voices. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: